Price, 25 Cents 




THE VISITORS 



ajmuuipnna 




Hageman's Make-Up Book 

By MAURICE HAGEMAN 

Price, 25 cents 

The Importance of an effective make-up is becoming 1 inure appa/» 
ant to the professional actor every year, but hitherto there has been 
no book on the subject describing the modern methods and at the 
same time covering all branches of the art. This want has now 
been filled. Mr. Hageman has had an experience of twenty years 
as actor and stage-manager, and his well-known literary ability has 
enabled him to put the knowledge so gained into shape to be of 
use to others. The book is an encyclopedia of the art of making up. 
Every branch of the subject is exhaustively treated, and few ques- 
tions can be asked by professional or amateur that cannot be an* 
swered by this admirable hand-book. It is not only the best make* 
up book ever published, but it is not likely to be superseded by 
any other. It is absolutely indispensable to every ambitious actor 

CONTENTS 

Chapter I. General Remarks. 

Chaoter II. Grease-Paints, their origin, components and use. 

Chapter III. The Make-up Box. Grease-Paints, Mirrors, Face 
Powder and Puff, Exora Cream, Rouge. Liquid Color, Grenadine, 
Blue for the Eyelids, Brilliantine for the Hair, Nose Putty, Wig 
Paste, Mascaro. Crape Hair, Spirit Gum, Scissors, Artists' Stomps, 
Cold Cream, Cocoa Butter, Recipes for Cold Cream. 

Chapter IV. Preliminaries before Making up; the Straight Make* 
up and how to remove it. 

Chapter V. Remarks to Ladies. Liquid Creams, Rouge, Lips. 
Eyebrows, Eyelashes, Character Roles, Jewelry, Removing Make-up. 

Chapter VI. Juveniles. Straight Juvenile Make-up, Society 
Men, Young Men in 111 Health, with Red Wigs, Rococo Make-up, 
Hands, Wrists, Cheeks, etc. 

Chapter VII. Adults, Middle Aged and Old Men. Ordinary Type 
of Manhood, Lining Colors. Wrinkles, Rouge, Sickly and Healthy 
Old A^e, Ruddy Complexions. 

Chapter VIII. Comedy and Character Make-ups. Comedy Ef- 
fects, Wigs. Beards, Eyebrows, Noses, Lips, Pallor of Death. 

Chapter IX. The Human Features. The Mouth and Lips, the 
Eyes and Eyelids, the Nose, the Chin, the Ear, the Teeth. 

Chapter X. Other Exposed Parts of the Human Anatomy. 

Chapter XI. Wigs, Bearers, Moustaches, and Eyebrows. Choosing 
a Wig, Powdering the Hair, Dimensions for Wigs, Wig Bands, Bald 
Wigs. Ladies' Wigs, Beards on Wire, on Gauze, Crape Hair, Wool, 
Beards for Tramps, Moustaches, Eyebrows. 

Chapter XII. Distinctive and Traditional Characteristics. North 
American Indians, New England Iwarmers, Hoosiers. Southerners. 
Politicians, Cowboys, Minors. Qtia^k^rs, Tramps, Creoles, Mulattoes, 
Quadroons, Octoroons. Negroes. # Scridiers during War, Soldiers dur- 
ing Peace, Scouts, Pathfinders*/* Puritans, Early Dutch Settlers, 
Englishmen, Scotchmen, Irishmen, Frenchmen, Italians, Spaniards, 
Portuguese, South Americans, Scandinavians, Germans, Hollanders. 
Hungarians, Gipsies. Russians, Turks, Arabs, Moors. Caffrrs, Abys* 
sinians, Hindoos, Malays, Chinese, Japanese, Clowns and Statuary, 
Hebrews, Drunkards, Lunatics, Idiots, Misers, Rogues. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 



THE VISITORS 



A PLAY TO BE ACTED BY CHILDREN 
IN ONE ACT 



By 

FLORENCE KIPBR FRANK 



Copyright 1916 \ 

By The Dramatic Publishing Company 



CHICAGO 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 



,-..],. 24y 



P5 3SII 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 



John Willoughby A boy of ten 

Susan Willoughby A girl of eight 

Mama Willoughby (the part to be taken by a girl of 14 or 15) 
Papa Willoughby (the part to be taken by a boy of about 15) 

Little Ghost Boy A child of ten 

Little Ghost Girl A child of eight 



4 



# 



DEC 26 1916 



©CI.D 4573G 



THE VISITORS 



Scene — Bedroom of the Willoughby children, John and 
Susan. There are two little white-counterpaned 
beds at the right of the room. At the left is a 
dresser and other appointments of an attractive 
bedroom for ivell-to-do city -apartment children. The 
entrance to the room is a door at the' back of the 
stage. 

In the center of the room and toward the front 
of the stage is a fair-sized table, the kind that might 
hold a sewing-basket, children's books, etc. At pres- 
ent it is occupied by the under half of a large card- 
board box — a flimsy box of the department -store va- 
riety. Under this box is spread a table-cover of 
immaculate whiteness. Within the box, an experi- 
ment by the Willoughby children is in process. 
They have filled the flimsy affair with nice, soft, 
sticky mud — filled it so that the mud is level with 
the top of the cardboard sides. With this mud as a 
foundation they are laying out a miniature forest — 
small twigs for the lofty trees, a stone in the back- 
ground for a distant mountain, a small cardboard 
structure for a cabin in the forest. When the cur- 
tain rises, the two children, John in pajamas, Susan 
in a nightgown, are busily intent on the experiment. 

John. [In a sort of a chant, as he plants the twigs, 
places the stone, etc.'] 

And here we'll put a little tree, 
And here a little fountain, 
And guarding over all the land, 
A great and lofty mountain. 

It's beautiful now, isn't it, Susan — I mean Mytyl. 



4 TEE VISITORS 

Susan. [Rather dubiously.] Y-yes! Yes, it is beau- 
tiful, John — I mean Tytyl. 

John. You aren't beginning to be a scardy-cat, are 
you, Mytyl? 

Susan. Well, Tytyl, dear, are you altogether quite 
sure that mother is going to like it ? 

John. [Grandly.] O, she won't mind when I ex- 
plain to her all about it. [Marks out various objects 
ivith his finger.] 

And here we'll put a little stream, 
And here a tree with branches, 
And by the open cottage door 
A — a — a — 

[Hesitates in thought for a few moments and finally 
exclaims emphatically.] I don't know what to put by 
the open cottage door. I can't think of anything that 
would rhyme with branches — at least I can't think of 
anything that would stand by an open cottage door. 
Can you, Mytyl? 

Susan. [Without stopping to think.] No, I can't; 
and I'm sure there isn't anything or you would have 
thought of it. You do think of the most beautiful words 
and the most beautiful poems ! 

John. [Modestly.] 0, they aren't much, really! 
| With growing enthusiasm.] But do you know what 
I 'm going to do sometime ? — when I 'm grown ? 

Susan. [Clasping her hands.] O what, Tytyl! 
Tell me ! 

John. I'm going to be a really poet — a really true 
one — and live way off in the forest — and have a little 
cottage just like this one — and sit at the door of it, like 
Hiawatha — 

"At the door on summer evenings" — 

and every summer evening I'll look at the stars, 0, a 
long, long time — just look and look at them shining and 
shiuiug — and when they've shined right into me, the way 
they do sometimes, then I'll walk into the cottage and 



TEE VISITORS 5 

I'll light the lamp and I'll sit down at the table and 
I'll write a poem — a beautiful poem about them — a new 
one every evening — 

Susan. And I'll sit there while you're writing and 
I'll look at you, Tytyl. 

John. [Awakened from his dream. \ You can if 
you want to. But you mustn't interrupt — not once — 
not one single word while I'm thinking — 

Susan. [Earnestly.] Really, I won't. I won't. 
I promise. 

John. All right, you can come, then. And it's going 
to look just the way this does — everything — the forest 
and the trees and the mountains. [He surveys the minia- 
ture scene thoughtfully and exclaims.] don't you 
think we'd better have another little stream rushing 
down the side of the mountain ? 

Susan. [Seizing a little cup that has been standing 
on a chair.] Let me do it. Let me make it rush, Tytyl. 

John. All right, then. One cupful will do it. 

[She runs from the room and returns in a moment 
with a cupful of water, which she pours into the already 
saturated mud in the box. This last cupful is a little 
too much. The side of the box gives way and the mud 
oozes out on the white table-cover. This accident can 
be managed with a box constructed so that one side may 
be easily knocked out.] 

John. There now! Now you have done it. 

Susan. [Beginning to sob.] Tytyl, I'm sorry. 
I am sorry. And mother will be angry. I know, I know 
she will be. 

John, There she comes now. I hear her. 

[As Mother Willoughby enters from door back, the 
two children stand so that the ruin on the table may be 
shielded. They change their positions as she advances.] 

Mother. John ! Susan ! Bedtime ! Sleepy-time, 
kiddies ! 

John. [Aside — indignantly.] She talks to us as if 
we were babies! 



6 TEE VISITORS 

Susan. S-s-sh! She's going to see it. 

Mother. Come now, honey-bunny. Let mother comb 
her hair for her. 

Susan. [Not moving.] I can do it myself now, 
mother. 

Mother. Well, can she! Pretty soon I shan't have 
any baby any longer. 

John. Don't they want you in the dining room for 
dinner, mother? 

Mother. Not just this minute, sonny. Company 
tonight. A really, truly party. All dressed up in our 
bestest. Daddy and I want to see you children safe 
asleep first. — Whatever makes you act so queerly? 

John. N-nothing, mother. We 're just standing here 
by the table. 

Mother. Yes, I see that, sonny. [Pulls him gently 
away from the table, and when she sees the devastation, 
cries out.] ! ! ! John ! John ! Susan ! 

Susan. It was my fault, mother. I — 

John. No, indeed, mother, it wasn't. I told her — 

Susan. But I got the water. 

John. I asked you to do it. 

Mother. I'm afraid that I shall have to punish 
both of my children. 

John. [Eagerly.] But, mother dear, it's the for- 
est — and flowers — and a little cottage — 

Mother. John, you know very well that it 's nothing 
but sticky mud and water out of the faucet. 

John. But, mother, some day I 'm going to live there. 
I'm going to live there and be a poet — 

Mother. [Not hearing him — gazing sadly at the 
table.] A new table, too — and a new table-cover. John ! 
Susan ! You '11 have to go to bed without your suppers ! 

Father Willoughby. [Calls from outside.] Mother! 
Mother ! Won 't you tie my bow-tie for me ? 

Mother. Right in here, daddy. 

Father. [As he enters, sees the crestfallen appear- 
ance of the children.] What's this! What's this! 
What's the trouble with John and Susan? 



TEE VISITORS 7 

John. Mytyl said that she did it, but really, truly — 

Susan. It wasn't Tytyl, daddy. Honestly it wasn't. 

Father. Mytyl! Tytyl! What are they talking 
of, Mother? 

John. We got them out of The Blue Bird. You 
see, we don't like our real names. They're too real — 
John and Susan — 

Father. Don 't like their real names ! Did you ever 
hear of such nonsense? 

Mother. They've been very naughty children, 
Daddy. I shall have to send them to bed without their 
suppers. 

Father. Do as you think best about it, Mother. 
Only don't, for goodness sake, be late for dinner. 

Mother. Yes, Daddy. Don't kiss them good-night 
this evening. 

[Father leaves the room without saying good-night to 
the children. Mother Willoughby bundles them into 
bed, turns down the light, and she also leaves without 
saying good-night to them.'] 

Susan. [Her voice coming sobbingly from the bed- 
clothes.] She — she didn't kiss us either. 

John. [Determined to show no weakness — gruffly.] 
He said our names were silly. 

Susan. They don't love us any more, Tytyl. [In 
a wail.] My mother didn't kiss me ! 

John. [More gruffly.] Huh ! I don't care. Don't be a 
baby. [Gets out of the bed, and sits on it.] I'm going 
to run away from here. That's what I'm going to do, 
this minute. 

Susan. [Sitting up.] Wh-where are you going to 
run to ? 

John. To the forest. To my cottage. 

Susan. [Horror-struck.] You're not going in your 
pajamas! 

John. Huh, I don't care. It's warm there. It's 
summer. 

Susan. John Willoughby, put on your suit this 
instant. 



8 TEE VISITORS 

John. Won 't ! 

Susan. Then I shan't go with you. 

John. All right, then ! 

[He pulls on an overcoat over his pajamas, and Susan 
puts her coat over her nightgown. Thus attired, the two 
children start hand in hand for the door and throw it 
open, only to be confronted by a strange apparition. 
On the threshold stand a boy and girl, also hand in hand. 
The boy is about John's age, the girl /Susan's. But 
they are not modern children. They are attired in the 
costumes worn at the time when Mother and Father 
Willoughby were boy and girl. These costumes may 
be of the children's styles of about 1870, or later. The 
pantalettes of the '70 period are suggested. 

John and Susan fall bach in amazement, as the two 
strange little children come shyly forward. These latter 
stand still in the middle of the room, and John and 
Susan stare at them with curiosity. 

Susan. [Clasping her hands enthusiastically.'] 0, 
aren't they cunning? 

John. Sh-sh, Mytyl ! You might hurt their feelings. 

Susan. Who are they, Tytyl? 

John. I don't know any more than you do. They 
look like a picture I saw once somewhere. 

Boy. We're not a picture, and it's very rude of you 
to say so. 

[Both John and Susan start in astonishment when 
the Boy begins to speak, but they quickly recover their 
composure and their manners.'] 

Susan. [Earnestly.] O, he didn't mean to be rude 
— really! He didn't say you were a picture. He said 
just that you looked like a picture. 

Girl. They did make a picture of me once. It was 
a crayon picture — a great big one. 

Susan. [Trying to remember.] Yes, and once I 
saw it. 

Boy. They made a picture of me, too. I was ten 
years old. I stood with my hand on a table. [lie poses 
himself in the stiff photographic manner of the period.] 



THE VISITORS 9 

John. [With a little scream.]. 0, I remember! I 
remember! My daddy showed it to me. It was at my 
grandmother's. 

Susan. 0, I remember too, now. It was my mother 
that had that picture. 

John. [Puzzled.] But my daddy, when he showed it, 
said it was a picture of him when he was my age. 

Susan. And my mother said it was her picture. 

[There is a pause. The Willoughby children are 
plainly bewildered.] 

Boy. [Comes shyly forward.] I am your daddy. 

Girl. And I'm your mother. 

Susan. But how can that be? They're in the dining 
room now, this very minute. 

Boy. Only part of them are down there. 

Girl. Only the grown-up part of them. 

Boy. We're the other part of them, but they've for- 
gotten. 

Girl. Perhaps they wouldn't know us if they saw us. 

Susan. [With pity.] Then you're only — only little 
ghost children ? 

Boy and Girl Together. [Sadly.] Only little ghost- 
children ! 

Susan. 0, I'm so sorry ! 

[Suddenly John begins to laugh and the other chil- 
dren turn to him inquiringly.] 

John. [Laughing.] 0, wouldn't father be surprised 
if he walked into the dining room right in the middle of 
the company and all, dressed just in that way? 

Susan. [Laughing also.] And wouldn't mother be 
surprised if she did ? 

[The Boy and Girl join in the merriment, and all 
laugh hilariously for a few moments.] 

John. [Suddenly thoughtful.] What would you say 
to him if you did that? What would you say to my 
father ? 

Boy. I 'd say — I 'd say — [Triumphantly. ] I 'd ask him 
if he remembers the forest. 

John. The forest? 



10 THE VISITORS 

x. The forest? 
• Girl. [To Boy — clapping her hands in delight.'] 
0, our forest ! Our forest ! 

Boy. She used to live there, too. It wasn't a real 
forest, of course. Just a woods back of our farm. But 
we pretended. 

John. [In glee.] O, I know! I know! My father 
used to do chores on his farm — fetch wood and carry 
water. 

Susan. And my mother lived next door to him. She 
used to dry the dishes in the kitchen. She was so little 
that she stood on a chair to put them in the pantry. 

Girl. [Measuring up to Susan.] She wasn't so very 
little. She wasn't any littler than you are. 

Boy. The forest was right back of our house. There 
was a cottage in it and no one lived there. It was a 
wonderful place to play in. 

Girl. [Pointing to Boy.] He told me that sometime 
way away when he grew up — sometime he was going to 
live in that cottage. 

Boy. There was a little hill back of it and we pre- 
tended it -was a mountain. 

Girl. It looked very much indeed like a mountain 
and he made up stories about it. 

Susan. We have a forest, too, and he [pointing] 
makes up beautiful poems. 

Boy. Where is your forest ? You can 't keep a forest 
in the city! 

Girl. You haven't even an upstairs or a downstairs 
to your house. It isn't a house, really. 

John. [Showing table.] We made our forest on the 
table. 

Susan. But the mountain brook spilled over. 

Boy. 0, there it is ! 0, you poor little children ! 

Girl. I think we'll have to come and play with them 
often, shan't we, Hansel? 

Boy. Yes, indeed, Gretel. I think they need us. 

John. Hansel! Gretel! [Jumping up and down 



THE VISITORS H 

in delight.] They have them, too. They have play- 
names ! 

Susan. Goody! Goody! Ours arc Mytyl and 
Tytyl. 

Boy. Do you know any games, you poor little city- 
children ? 

John. Do we know any games, Mytyl! Just listen 
to him. 

Susan. We know all the games that there are, and 
more than you do, 'cause they make up new ones for us 
every day now. 

Boy. Do you know ' ' I saw a ship a-sailing ' ' ? 

John. 0, do you mean, 

' ' I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, 

And, oh, it was laden with pretty things for me?" 

[The children now join hands and play "I saw a ship 
a-sailing." They can then sing together or in groups — 
the Boy and Girl together, and then John and Susan. 
The following songs are suggested, for Boy and Girl: 
"Jingle, Jingle Bells," (i Morning Prayer," "Grand- 
ma's Knitting Song," etc. 

For John and Susan: "Spring Song," arranged 
from Mendelssohn, and "Alice's Supper." They are 
playing a singing game or singing a song, when 
Mother and, Father Willoughby open the door. The 
Boy and Girl appear very much frightened, and as the 
Mother and Father enter the two little ghost-children 
slip behind them and disappear through the entrance- 
way. John and Susan run to the bed and cover them- 
selves with the bed-clothes.] 

Mother. John ! Susan ! Whatever were you doing ? 

John. [Sitting up in bed.] 0, mother, we were 
playing with them. Didn't you see them? 

Mother. See whom ? What do you mean ? Did you 
see anyone, Daddy? 

Daddy. They're light-headed, because they didn't 
have any supper. 

Mother. The poor little things! They've been 
dreaming, Daddy. 



12 THE VISITOBS 

Susan. Mother ! Daddy ! They slipped out right 
behind you. 

Mother. Who slipped out, Susan? Tell Mother, 
dearest. 

Susan. Why, they — they — Mother, there was a 
cabin in the forest ! 

John. [To Father.] And you made up stories about 
it and about the mountain. 

Susan. And you were just as big as I am when you 
stood on the chair to put away the dishes. 

John. And you had play names, too. They were — 
let me see ! — they were Hansel and Gretel. 

Father. Whatever has happened to them, Mother! 
Whatever has happened to our children ! 

Mother, I don't know, Daddy. But one thing I do 
know. Every evening — every blessed evening — they're 
going to have their old mother and daddy for play- 
companions. 

Father. good, Mother! goody, goody! 

Susan. Do you mean our own really grown-up 
mother and daddy? 

John. Or do you mean those other children — the 
children you were when you were little? 

[Father and Mother look at each other.] 

Mother. Both, darling, both together. 

[Father nods his head gravely.] 

Susan. Kun back to your comp'ny now, dearest 
Mother. 

John. Mother, we're so sorry — so very sorry — that 
we spilled it. 

[Mother and Father are leaving room. At door 
Mother turns.] 

Mother. And if you take all your meat and potatoes, 
you can have ice-cream, too. Nurse is bringing the tray 
tliis very minute. 

John and Susan Together. [ Clapping hands.] O 
goody ! goody ! Goody ! 

CURTAIN. 



Diamonds and Hearts 

A Comedy Drama m Three Acts 

By EFFIE W. MERRIMAN 
Price, 25 cents 

This play has become one of the most popular in America. The 
good plot, the strong "heart" interest, and the abundant comedy 
all combine to make a most excellent drama. "Bub" Barnes is a 
fine character of the Josh Whitcomb type, and his sister is a worthy 
companion "bit." Sammy is an excruciatingly funny little darkey. 
The other characters are good. Fine opportunity for introducing 
specialties. The play has so many good points that it never fails 
to be a success. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

BERNICE HALSTEAD, a young lady of eighteen, with an affec- 
tion of the heart, a love for fun and hatred of arithmetic 

AMY HALSTEAD, her sister, two years younger, fond of frolic , 

INEZ GRAY, a young lady visitor, willing to share in the fun.... 

MRS. HALSTEAD, a widow, and stepmother of the Halstead girls 

HANNAH MARY BARNES, or "Sis," a maiden lady who keeps 
house for her brother 

DWIGHT BRADLEY, a fortune hunter and Mrs. Halstead's son 
by a former marriage 

DR. BURTON, a young physician 

SAMMY, the darkey bell-boy in the Halstead house ' 

ABRAHAM BARNES, or "Bub," a yankee farmer, still unmar- 
ried at forty— a diamond in the rough 

ATTORNEY; SHERIFF 

Time of playing, two hours. 
Two interior scenes. Modern costumes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS 

Act. 1. Parlor of the Halstead home. The young doctor. The 
three girls plot to make his acquaintance. An affection of the heart. 
"Easy to fool a young doctor," but not so easy after all. The step- 
mother and her son. The stolen diamonds. The missing will. 
Plot to win Bernice. "I would not marry Dwight Bradley for all 
the wealth the world contains." Driven from home. 

Act 2. Kitchen of the Barnes' farm house. Bub takes off his 
boots. The new school ma'am. "Supper's ready." "This is our 
nephew and he's a doctor," Recognition. A difficult problem in 
arithmetic. The doctor to the rescue. "I'm just the happiest girl 
in the world." "I've come to pop the question, an' why don't I 
do it?" Brother and sister. "If it's a heifer, it's teh be mine." 
The sheriff. Arrested for stealing the diamonds. "Let me knock 
yer durned head off." The jewels found in Bernice's trunk. 

Act 3. Parlor of the Halstead home. "That was a lucky stroke 
— hiding those diamonds in her trunk." The schemer's plot miscar- 
ries. Abe and Sammy join hands. The lawyer. "Bully for her." 
Bradley tries to escape. "No, ye don't!" Arrested. "It means, 
dear, that you are to be persecuted no more." Wedding presents, 
and a war dance around them. "It is no trick at all to fool a 
y9ung doctor." 

Address Orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 



Joe Ruggles 

OR 

THE GIRL MINER 

A Comedy Drama in Fout Acts 

By FRANK J. DEAN 
Price, 25 cents 

Nine male, three female characters. A vigorous, stirring play 
depicting peculiar types of life in a large city and in the miir.ng 
districts of the West. The parts of Joe Ruggles, the miner, Han? 
"Von Bush (Dutch dialect), and Richard Hamilton, the scheming 
villain, all afford opportunity for clever work; while the part ot 
Madge (soubrette), who afterwards assumes the character of Mark 
J.ynch, is an excellent one for a bright young actress. 

Scenery — City street, showing R. R. Station; rocky pass, with 
eet cabins; a wood scene, and two plain interiors. Costumes of tht 
day. Time of playing, two and a half hours. 

SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS 

ACT I— En' ranee to Railroad Station 

Looking for a victim — Joe Ruggles — "Them galoots Is worse than 
grizzlies" — "Morning papers" — Madge and Bess plying their trades— 
"Can't you sing Joe a song?" — Hamilton and his pal confer — Tom 
Howarth gains inportant information — "Don't you dare to la> 
hands on us!" — Hamilton tries to maintain his authority — "Who' 
Old Joe!" 

ACT II — Doomsday's Hotel, Dare-devil's Gulch, California 

The landlord secures a guest — Hans disappointed — "Dot is a mis- 
dake" — A ghost story — The "Kid and his sister" — "Did I hurt youi 
highness?" — Hans and Doomsday have another talk — Kate Laurel 
meets the young miner — "Yah, dot vas vot J t'inks" — Madge's dis- 
guise penetrated — She recognizes an old enemy — "Now, George 
Smith, take your choice" — Joe Ruggles as a tramp — "Ef yer think 
yer can pick on me because I'm han'some ye'll find me ter hum" — 
Hamilton appears — "Those two youngsters ai*e mine" — The tramp 
takes a hand. 

ACT III— Wood Scene 

A lively ghost — Hamilton and Smith plan more villainy — Old Joe 
thinks of turning Detective — Kate Laurel again — "There is a secret 
connected with my life" — Kate's confession — "What do you mean, 
sir?" — Tom Howarth once more — "Vos you looking for a hotel?"— 
Planning an abduction — Old Joe as an Irishman — "Phat does yez 
want wid me?" — Undertakes to be a detective — Takes a hand in 
tt"; abduction — "Do it at your peril." 

ACT IV 

Hans hears, end tells, the latest news — "I nefer pelieved dot 
epook peesness" — Kate Laurel astonished — Hamilton attempts 
flight — "De poys haf got Mr. Hamilton, und dey vill gif him a 
necktie barty" — Arrest of Smith — "Get out mit my vay, I vas de 
United States Mail" — Tom meets his old friend under new circum- 
stances — "Do you want me, Tom?" — Old Joe gives consent — A 
happy ending. 

Address Orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO. ILLINOIS 



THE DUST OF THE EARTH 

A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 

By 

KATHERINE KAVANAUGH 

Author of "The Professor of Love," "The Girl and the 
Outlaw," "Corinne of the Circus/' etc. 



PRICE, 25 CENTS 



This Rural Drama plays two hours and there are six 
male and four female characters. There are one exterior 
and two interior scenes, all simple. Each character fur- 
nishes a good part; interesting plot wound into every 
line of the play; two charming love stories; the heroine 
and her story win the audience from the moment the 
curtain rises. Full of mystery, romance, pathos and fun. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

David Moore, of Maple Farm Cottage. 

Susan Moore, his wife. 

Elizabeth, their daughter. 

Jerry, their son. 

Rev. Dr. Templeton, a young divine. 

Miss Arabella, the village newspaper. 

John Ryder, the young master of The Maples. 

Wandering Tom, a mystery. 

Old Morse, his companion. 

Nell, "The dust of the earth." 

Address orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



HICKS AT COLLEGE 

A Comedy in Three Acts 

By 

SARA PRESTON, AMY OLIVER AND RALPH E. DYAR 



PRICE, 25 CENTS 



Characters, twelve male, nine female. Plays about two 
hours. Costumes modern. Three easy interior scenes. 
A jolly, lively piece — full of comedy and action — well 
adapted to the needs of schools and colleges and ama- 
teurs everywhere. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Hiram Hicks : The Braino Man 

Tom Horton Who writes advertisements 

Fritz Jordan Horton 's chum who plays basket ball 

Adam Biddicut Professor in Northern University 

Dean Smiley. Dean of the College of Arts in Northern University 

Percy Bobbins A recent arrival from ' ' Deah Boston ' ' 

Adolph Hopkins A lazy boy 

Bastian Briggs A dig 

Josh Anderson A basket ball enthusiast 

Charlie Padlet Reporter for the ' ' Daily Shriek ' ' 

Peter The popular proprietor of ' ' The Pal ' ' 

Walker Manager for the Braino Man 

June Grant ) Seniors, chums, and interested respectively in 
Polly Porter ) Horton and Jordan 

Claire Angeline Jones A stage struck girl 

Susy Spriggins A freshman with a crush 

Daisy Armstrong An athletic girl 

Fluff Finley A f usser girl 

Flora Belle Delamartyr Waitress at "The Pal'' 

Mrs. Cobb Housekeeper at ' ' The Quarters ' ' 

Lily Maid at ' ' The Quarters ' ' 

ACT I. Scene — The Palace of Sweets, familiarly known as "The 
Pal, ' ' the meeting place of town and college. Time — Morn- 
ing, three days before the championship game. 

ACT II. Scene — The campus of Northern University. Time— > 
Morning, the day of the game. 

ACT III. Scene— ' < The Quarters, ' ' home of the six boys. Time 
— Evening, the jubilee after the game. 

Address orders to 

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



Practical Instructions tor 
Private Theatricals 



By W. D, EMERSON 



author of "A Country Romance," "The Unknown Rival," 
"Humble Pie," etc. 



Price, 25 cents 



Here is a practical hand-took, describing in detail all the 
accessories, properties, scenes and apparatus necessary for an 
amateur production. In addition to the descriptions in words, 
everything is clearly shown in the numerous pictures, more 
than one hundred being inserted in the book. No such useful 
book has ever been offered to the amateur players of any 
country. 

CONTENTS 

Chapter L Introductory Remarks. 

Chapter II. Stage, How to Make, etc. In drawing-rooms 
or parlors, with sliding or hinged doors. In a single large 
room. The Curtain; how to attach it, and raise it, etc. 

Chapter III. Arrangement of Scenery. How to hang it. 
Drapery, tormentors, wings, borders, drops. 

Chapter IV. Box Scenes. Center door pieces, plain wings, 
door wings, return pieces, etc. 

Chapter V. How to Light the Stage. Oil, gas and electric 
light. Footlights, Sidelights, Reflectors. How to darken the 
stage, etc. 

Chapter VI. Stage Effects. Wind, Rain, Thunder, Break- 
ing Glass, Falling Buildings, Snow, Water, Waves, Cascades, 
Passing Trains, Lightning, Chimes, Sound of Horses' Hoofs, 
Shots. 

Chapter VII. Scene Painting. 

Chapter VIII. A Word to the Property Ma*. 

Chapter IX. To the Stage Manager. 

Chapter X. The Business Manager. 

Address Orders to 
THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANT 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



PLAYS 




015 873 421 7 



And Entertainment Books. 

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W the United States, we keep in stock the most 
complete and best assorted lines of plays and en- 
tertainment books to be found anywhere. 

We can supply any play or book pub- 
lished. We have issued a catalogue of the best 
plays and entertainment books published in 
America and England. It contains a full 
description of each play, giving number of char- 
acters, time of playing, scenery, costumes, etc. 
This catalogue will be sent free on application. 

The plays described are suitable for ama- 
teurs and professionals, and nearly all of them 
may be played free of royalty. Persons inter- 
ested in dramatic books should examine our cat 
alogue before ordering elsewhere. 

We also carry a full line of grease paints, 
face powders, hair goods, and other ' 'make-up" 
<naterials. 

The Dramatic Publishing Company 
CHICAGO 



